“Where are you going?” Alan asks in the darkness of the small room.

Oscar pauses, his hand inches from the doorknob. He doesn’t have a good reason to tell his little brother. Oh, nowhere really. Just meeting Lady Adelle of the Blackwood family so I can choose a weapon. By the way, did I tell you I’m getting paid to kill her son? But yeah, this is also just an interview.

Yeah, right. Like he can say that.

“Well?” Alan’s voice asks again with all the suspicion the nine-year-old can muster. Oscar can imagine his brother’s haunting green eyes squinting, peering into his soul and seeing through his secrets.

He’s always hated that about Alan.

“I’m just going to take out the trash,” Oscar lies. “Forgot to do it earlier.”

“Just do it tomorrow. Hey, Os—!”

He slams the door shut. Oscar slumps in relief, sagging against its cold surface. Outside in the empty stairwell, he can hear his brother’s confused grumbling coming from inside. With shaky hands, he locks the door and hugs his thin, patchy coat closer around his body.

London’s chilly air greets him as he steps onto the cobblestone streets. The moon is shadowed by the clouds tonight. Half running as his breath forms small pockets of hazy air, he passes the low-angled storefronts on the widening streets. Most are empty and dark, having closed up shop. He pays them no mind, turning corners this way and that. His eyes are on the looming Blackwood manor with its lights on in the distance. More like castle-house.

When Oscar arrives, the iron gates are already open, waiting, beckoning him inside. The clouds have cleared slightly. A pale beam of moonlight illuminates the snow-white pavement leading through the courtyard and past the fountain, all the way up to the main entrance framed by marble pillars. Adelle is already there, green eyes glowing impossibly bright.

Oscar swallows as he nears her. He stays silent, observing her carefully.

“Thank you for coming, Oscar,” she begins, pink lips curling into a too-wide smile. She brings her hands out from behind her. “Now, choose one.”

In her right hand is a flintlock gun with a slender, smooth wooden handle that juts out and away from a metallic cylindrical barrel. A simple laurel leaf pattern is engraved lightly over its surface. The gun emanates a coldness more biting than the chilly night.

In her left hand is an innocuous black drawstring pouch. Oscar has no idea what’s inside. “What’s that?” he asks, pointing to the pouch.

“Arsenic,” Adelle replies.

Oscar’s face scrunches in confusion. “What’s arsenic?”

Adelle giggles. “It’s a poison, dear child. Tasteless and odourless. It’s quite effective.”

Oscar’s gaze lingers back and forth between the two weapons in Adelle’s steady hands. Seconds pass. Oscar swallows, still undecided, his hand wavering between the two items. Finally, he grits his teeth. “I want both.”

“Greedy child, aren’t we?” Adelle quips. “Are you sure you can handle them?”

“I’m taking both,” Oscar insists, meeting her gaze with his own glowering glare. He quickly snatches them, shoving the gun under his coat and slipping the pouch into his trouser pocket.

Adelle catches his arm. “I’ll give you the gun later. It will be too risky to bring it into the interview.”

Hesitating, Oscar hands the gun back to her.

“Do you know how to use the poison?” Adelle asks.

Loathe as he is to admit it, he doesn’t. “How do I use it?”

“Simply sprinkle it into a hot liquid. But be careful. If it cools, it will be visible, and Edward will surely notice.”

Oscar nods.

Adelle smiles. “Now, let’s have you meet Richard, shall we?” She opens the door and beckons him inside the foyer.

He gasps. The foyer is wide and spacious, its polished floors adorned in a checker-like pattern. The gaping maw of the mahogany staircase leads up to the second floor. At its sides, ornate golden balcony railings glint in the light, splitting the ground floor from the next. There are many classical paintings strung along the walls, framed in brass and gold. The ceiling is covered with an elaborate religious mural of angels giving seven light orbs to seven hooded figures with cupped, outstretched hands.

“This way,” Adelle gestures to Oscar. He hastily rushes up the staircase, eyes still glistening and cheeks rouge.

He follows her down one of the halls, a plush navy carpet under his feet and a collage of scenery and portrait paintings lining the pale blue walls. Gracefully draping curtains with gold fringes frame the windows. From here, he can see all the streets and alleyways in the distance. He recognizes the faint silhouettes of the local shops and bakeries, and what seems to be his apartment building under the shimmering moonlight.

Adelle opens the door at the end of the hall and inside, a stern-looking middle-aged man wearing a black frock coat awaits them on a sofa. Richard, the master of the house, Edward’s father. My interviewer, Oscar recalls.

There’s another sofa across from him and a rosewood tea table between them. Adelle sits beside Richard, and Oscar sits rigidly across from them.

Richard greets him, extending a hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Oscar.”

“It’s nice to meet you, sir,” Oscar replies, shaking the outstretched hand. He swallows and calms his pounding heart. He just needs to pass.

“Adelle’s recommended you as a hall boy,” Richard continues. “But I’ll be honest, the boys she’s recommended before have all turned out to be…subpar. What makes you any different?”

He’s not different, really. But he wants to be. That’s why I’m here. Oscar takes a deep breath, and a tranquil calmness overtakes him. He smiles, eyes mirthful and lively but respectful. “I work hard, sir, but that’s not what makes me different. I don’t want to work here because I need money.” A lie. “I want to work here because I believe in what the Blackwood family is doing.”

Richard’s eyebrows raise. “And what would that be?”

Oscar’s smile widens, seeing his soon-to-be employer’s interest piqued. “The Blackwood family imports foreign goods. London would not be where it is today without your family’s efforts.”

Richard leans back, stroking his mustache. A calculating gleam enters his dark brown eyes. “Why would a street kid—an orphan like you—be interested in this? Isn’t it enough to just worry about your own well-being? It’s not like you’ll be able to manage a business even if you’re interested in it.”

Adelle’s eternally smiling eyes give him no indication of whether or not he’s doing the right thing. Glancing at Richard’s suspicious visage however, Oscar decides to change tactics.

Putting on a slight frown as if he’s recalling some unpleasant memories, Oscar begins, hesitant. “The truth is, I don’t need money. But my little brother does. He’s been sick with typhus for a while now.” He pauses and hunches his shoulders. “I know there’s no cure yet, but I don’t believe there’s nothing that works in the apothecary’s shop. And even if there is nothing…” Oscar meets Richard’s gaze. “The wealth and business the Blackwood family brings to London will help doctors find a cure. I would be honored to have an opportunity to serve you and your family.” After a moment, Oscar adds, “I know that money is necessary for dreams to come true.”

That’s the only truth he’s told today.

Richard’s sympathetic look has Oscar dancing and laughing inside. He knows before the man tells him that he’s passed. Richard hands him a neatly folded uniform, black suit and golden buttons. A small smile splits Oscar’s face.

Richard’s believing eyes meet Oscar’s as he tells him, “Welcome to Blackwood manor, Oscar. If what you say is true, we’ll be expecting great things from you.”

Outside the manor, Adelle sees Oscar off. “Quite the story you told there,” her lilting voice begins. She cocks her head at him. “Was it true?”

“Of course not.”

She snickers. “Poor Richard, deceived by a mere child. Despite his real job, he runs on emotions all the time.”

“Real job?”

Adelle waves her hand, dismissing his words. “Nothing. Just my ramblings.”

Oscar’s eyebrows furrow, but he says nothing.

“Oh, I almost forgot to mention,” Adelle begins. “Our deal is only valid if you can kill Edward within two years. Once he starts boarding school, it’ll be impossible to get to him.” She hands Oscar the gun.

He takes it, hiding it under his coat. “If I pull it off, you better hold up your end of our deal. Make me the new heir to the Blackwood family.”

“And Alan? It was to adopt both of you as the new heirs, remember?”

Oscar pauses. “Yes, Alan too.”

Adelle’s smile sharpens as she calls after his retreating figure. “If you’re exposed, I won’t be saving you.”

He doesn’t look back.

When Oscar returns to his apartment, he shuts the door as gently as he can. The moonlight weaves through plain thin curtains. Alan’s sleeping figure is cocooned in the blankets.

He quietly steps towards a sturdy closet standing awkwardly away from the rest of the furniture in the room. Unlike the other pieces, this one is polished, clean, and clearly too ornate to belong. His hands caress the smooth hardwood surface, opening it slowly. To his relief, it doesn’t creak.

He places the gun gently at the bottom, wrapped in bundles of clothing. It’s a risky hiding place, but it’s better than leaving it out in the open. He’d just have to make sure Alan never opens this closet again.

Oscar shuts the closet and tiptoes back to bed. He shifts as quietly as he can, and the bed dips slightly towards his end. He falls asleep, finally relaxing for the first time in a long while.

Getting Alan to never open the closet again is the easy part. His brother always did listen to his instructions.

After all, I’ve trained him well.

 ***

Richard sighs, slumping into his chair. His eyes rove over the documents on his desk, a detailed profile of Oscar lit by dim candlelight. “William.”

A dark-haired man enters through the door, locking it after he does. “Yes, master.”

Richard waves his hand, gesturing for him to come closer. “None of that when we’re alone.”

“All right then, Richard. What’s troubling you this late?”

“Adelle.”

“Ah, so the usual.”

“No…” Richard frowns, fingers drumming the table. He picks up the paper with a picture of Oscar and his background details, handing it over. “Take a look, William. Tell me what you think.”

“This is what I compiled for you a while back…” William’s eyes dart back and forth as he reads it. A while later, he purses his lips. “A child out of nowhere. An orphan, but absolutely no trace of his family aside from a little brother. Out of all the potential children, I’m guessing he’s the one Adelle chose?”

“Indeed.”

“Then we must be careful. If he turns out to be like the other ones…” William’s eyes narrow.

“I have no doubt he will.” At William’s open mouth, Richard quickly adds, “But we will let him work here for now. He may have lied in his interview, but I sense he’s still wavering. Perhaps Edward will do him some good.”

William shakes his head. “As much of a saviour complex as ever, eh? Where did that get you, Richard? What if Oscar doesn’t take a liking to Edward?”

“We’ll dispose of him, then. But let’s take things slow and watch how they play out. Besides, Edward could use a trusted by his side soon.”

“You’re talking about Astrum Academy.” William hands the papers back. “Our alma mater.”

Richard nods, folding his hands beneath his chin. “The way Edward is now, he won’t survive in that school of lies.”

William shoots him a withering look. “It’s partially your fault, you know. You suppressed his Esse as soon as he started showing signs of it and kept it all a secret.”

A guilty pang pierces Richard’s heart, but he clears his throat. “That power does us no good. For a Blackwood, it’s nothing but a death sentence. You know the price I had to pay for it, William. I will guarantee at least my son’s life if that’s the last thing I do.”

“But of course, it’s not.”

Richard meets his old friend’s scrutinizing eyes. “…It’s not.”